


all gone (gone, gone) to rust

by paopuleaf



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Ghosts, M/M, Major Character Undeath, i love dreamy and i think she n tot are the only people in this fic with rights, im so sorry for liking tillman and declan i didnt mean it, ish, ish.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paopuleaf/pseuds/paopuleaf
Summary: “suzanne.”declan jolts. sure enough - there’s dreamy, sitting next to him on the bench outside of the crabitat as if she’d been there the whole time. “i- uh- hey?” she looks at him, before her vision unfocuses, looking-pasthim. her goggles are in her hands, loosely held, worn. “what’s up?”“why do people keep talking about henderson as if he’s gone?”-in which one particular batter can't just die - no, he's got to haunt the fuck out of the people he left behind. of course.
Relationships: Tillman Henderson/Declan Suzanne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	all gone (gone, gone) to rust

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone's enough of a dick to stick around in their unlife it's tilly  
> this is a spiritual successor to my other tillman fic but can stand alone, probably

eight years.

more than that, really. declan knew tilly before blaseball, and something about that makes his chest - burn. _“i think it’s prolly fine, dude,”_ until it wasn’t, and now he’s here. he traces the stupid “declan” tattoo on his arm and closes his eyes and pretends like it’s _fine,_ because it’s - 

not. 

his lockscreen is still that dumb screenshot. changing it would be easy, click or two of a buttons and - gone. he can’t do it. (he’s tried.) god, he’s got that fucking - fireproof jacket, but he doesn’t need it, didn’t need it, _tilly_ did - 

“ _fuck._ ”

this is stupid. this is - _so stupid._ declan’s seen the video of tillman’s incineration, heard the last words from his teammates first and then from his own mouth, and they were so _stupid,_ and right, and of course. it makes perfect sense except it _doesn’t,_ he wasn’t even hit by jaylen before, he wasn’t _anything -_

random. the rogue umps spun a wheel and it landed on tillman henderson, absolute bastard, complete dirtbag, member of the crabs, _partner and friend -_

_he’s not stuck anymore,_ his mind supplies, and thanks, very _fucking_ helpful. declan wants to scream. doesn’t have the time, though - today’s a home game. the game must go on. like nothing’s happened. 

so declan tries to pretend like nothing’s happened.

(tillman could never guess his password, so he never got to make fun of him for his homescreen, a picture rivers snapped of the two when they passed out in her apartment, dreamy half-out-of-frame. 

declan doesn’t change that one, either.)

-

“yo, tot.”

…

“know you can’t see me- and all that. or hear me. better’ve put some bang energy by my grave, though. you always pull through.” 

...

“i’m, uh- god. how is this harder in _death?_ this is bullshit, actually, i’m leaving. fuck this. i don’t- i don’t have to do shit.”  
  


... 

“...‘m sorry. shit sucks, l-m-a-o.”

the ghost leaves.

(tot fox wakes up. he fell asleep with the crab uniform still stuck on, but it’s off, now - there’s the distinct feeling like someone had ruffled his fur. he shakes it off, trots outside to find forrest. probably just loser, or - no, couldn’t have been tilly. not anymore.)

-

“suzanne.” 

declan jolts. sure enough - there’s dreamy, sitting next to him on the bench outside of the crabitat as if she’d been there the whole time. “i- uh- hey?” she looks at him, before her vision unfocuses, looking- _past_ him. her goggles are in her hands, loosely held, worn. “what’s up?”

“why do people keep talking about henderson as if he’s gone?” 

“i- what?” declan stutters- stutters- stops. starts - stops - starts. “he got- _incinerated,_ dreamy, of course he’s gone. wh- where the fuck else would he _be?_ ” dreamy’s giving him a _look,_ now, like he’s missing something obvious. the hairs on the back of his neck raise, as if tillman himself is laughing at him from beyond the fucking grave - he would, wouldn’t he? the thought is more reassuring than it has _any_ right to be. 

“he was,” she agrees, “but he’s not gone. i can still see him. he’s laughing at you right now, actually. looks pained.” a pause. declan doesn’t know what the _fuck_ he’s hearing, only that he’s very, _very_ confused, and maybe a little upset. maybe a lot upset. who _fucking_ knows. (of course he would be laughing.) “sorry for exposing you, henderson, it’s not like your boyfriend would’ve ever seen you in pain before. what a concept.”

“can- can you, like, back up a few fucking steps to when you said you can _see him?_ you- _better_ not be fucking with me, sutton, i swear to god-” cuts himself off. weird shit’s happened in blaseball, why couldn’t this - but it - god. dreamy doesn’t look mad, which - good - just - contemplative. 

“i’m... not ‘fucking with you.’” she holds out the goggles and unceremoniously drops them into declan’s lap, the metal cold even through the fabric. “i believe you should be able to see him if you put these on, but… hm. they were simply very bad glasses, for me. i’m not sure.”

one moment. two. he picks up the goggles and holds them. doesn’t put them on, not yet. a joke. it has to be a joke but - out of all the people to do that to him, dreamy seems… unlikely. whatever. what the fuck does he have to lose, anyway? 

declan shoves them on over his headphones and - 

“god, took you long enough. how much did you plan to keep me _waiting?_ ghosts have a very busy schedule-” 

the ghost of tillman starts as declan punches him straight through the chest, before snickering, looking every bit the dirtbag he was in life. declan’s never been happier to see him. “you stupid fucking- _asshole,_ if you weren’t dead i’d kill you myself-”

“noooo, don’t threaten my unlife, you’re so sexy- wait, fuck, _declan-_ ”

tillman actually looks - _alarmed,_ what a concept, but declan can’t really bring himself to think about it when he’s too busy trying to stop _crying._ he cried enough tears before, he doesn’t need to do it again now, but it won’t - _stop._ it won’t fucking _stop -_

dreamy’s patting him on the back, and tillman’s hands are hovering around his face/arms/chest, and declan can’t _stop._ “don’t- cry, bro, that’s dumb, ‘m right here- not alive, but- y’know- stop crying, dumbass-” 

“i don’t think that’s helping,” dreamy supplies, but declan laughs, wet and strained, because not even _dying_ could stop this stupid idiot from sticking around, of course. _of course._ he puts his hand through tillman’s (cold/cold/cold, not there-but there, in some weird fucking _ghost_ way) and doesn’t - doesn’t _hold on_ , but… something like that.

(the goggles are dreamy’s, and have to _go back_ to dreamy, eventually. she reassures him that tillman is still there - “still planning to ‘haunt the shit out of you, gayass’- his words, obviously” - and that he can borrow the goggles sometimes. they’ll figure out something after the game. _shared custody_ of dirtbag ghost rights. declan tells rivers about it later and doesn’t even mind when she trips him into the dirt. 

it stays - relatively quiet. the crabs know, of course - tot fox got to tell tillman about the grand slam, made a homerun the game after - and some of the firefighters know, but tillman takes too much joy in fucking with the other teams without _any_ way of them suspecting him to say much more to the others. sometimes, he’ll vanish, for a few days - come back with his ghostly form smoking, ash coating his uniform. “just have to check in with a couple of the less-good dead people, y’know, the ones who aren’t cool enough to stick around like me.”

declan takes it. _what if we’re stuck_ echoes again and again, but - maybe sticking around isn’t all bad. even when he catches snippets of tillman bullying his playing mid-game. 

nice to know that some things don’t change after death.)

**Author's Note:**

> tillman voice stop giving me peanuts i want an xbox live subscription from the grave . the real reason he's back as a ghost is because the null team doesn't want him either  
> find me on twitter @ paopuleaves and on tumblr @ rylron, or in the crabitat if you are a crab !


End file.
